


Teeter-Totter

by Prisca_Cosmo



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BAMF Kyouko, Gen, Kyouko Is A Sky, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, no beta we die like men, sky!kyouko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prisca_Cosmo/pseuds/Prisca_Cosmo
Summary: She breathed in. The universe within expanded. She breathed out nebulae. Planets collided against her ribcage. Within the cesspit Kyōko called a heart, something infinite and unyielding yawned with the fury of a thousand dying suns.[DOWN FOR REWORK]





	Teeter-Totter

**Author's Note:**

> **disclaimer:** _Katekyō Hitman Reborn_ is the property of Akira Amano.

_**teeter-totter  
** _ **BIG BANG**

.

.

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01: "The End of the Beginning"

 _"Some say the world will end in fire,_  
_Some say in ice._  
_From what I've tasted of desire  
_ _I hold with those who favor fire._

* * *

 

Anyone that knew Sasagawa Kyōko knew that she was a delightful child. To say she was well-liked among her peers is to say the sky is blue.  _Just_  blue.

"Well-mannered", adults would compliment her as they watch her ask for things with a 'please' and 'thank you', never managing to meet her eye. She was quite shy, Sasagawa Kyōko. How cute. Always the last one to leave the classroom, preferring to stay back and pick up after her classmate's mess during recess. Terribly shy, but so very considerate of those around her, they would soon discover. Curious, a teacher questioned her actions once as to why the five-year-old hadn't joined the rest of the children, and the girl's answer nearly moved her.

"Thank you for the concern Sensei", she picked up some children's storybook, carefully examining each page for damage before stacking it with the rest. She would alphabetize them later on the shelf. "But you work hard enough just teaching us so figured I would lighten your load. Besides, this gives me the chance to read my book in peace", she spoke loudly and clearly, not unlike her elder brother, carefully pronouncing each word with caution. From what they've heard from the Sasagawa's, the caution was understandable. Sort of.

It's no secret that the younger Sasagawa sibling absolutely adored books. Or rather, how much she enjoyed reading itself. Always questioning the meaning of one kanji, and the next, repeating the readings under breath. She was determined in her own little awkward way and it was precious.

Not unlike a certain Hibari, as a matter of fact.

Still.

Pragmatism on a normal five-year-old was alarming. Pragmatism on a Hibari child was understandable and still no less alarming. But pragmatism on Sasagawa Kyōko was ridiculous - but in a silly, adorable manner. Watching a toddler attempting to emulate the revolving adults in her life was ridiculously adorable, like a little girl in her mother's high heels, and Kyōko was fine with letting them think such thoughts. She  _encouraged_  them, in fact.

Perhaps that's why she felt like such a breath of fresh air. One of the few students who enjoyed learning and went out of her way to make other's lives a little more enjoyable. A little more easier.

As for her fellow classmates?

Children were naturally more attuned to the more delicate matters, not to mention blunt, so deep down they knew there was 'something' about Sasagawa Kyōko.

Maybe it was the box of band-aids she carried around in her backpack, always sparing a few for the children that tripped and fell. Maybe it was the motherly hand she lent to help clean them up after playing around in mud, dirt and grass. Maybe it was because, whenever a teacher couldn't solve their problems, Kyōko was always the one who stepped up, offering another answer, another way, that neither had ever considered.

Ultimately, it became unanimous that whatever that 'something' was about Sasagawa Kyōko-chan that made her stand out from the rest of them, it was something good.

(Those fools.)

* * *

 

Ryōhei is three when he meets his imōto.

For as young as he was, Ryōhei remembers the day with an intensifying clarity because that day was the best day of his life. He engraves the memory into his mind with such extremity it's a little mystifying. This same boy, who could recount the day of his sister's and his meeting with such grandiose, like something out of a fairy tale, couldn't even remember where he left his backpack the other night?

Astounding.

Kyōko had been sick that day, under the care of Obā-sama when he arrived. He knows this now because his imōto's face had been flushed a bright rosy red. The cold weather could also have been responsible. December is a chilly time, after all.

She seemed so tiny and frail in the arms of Obā-sama and the woman herself ever so grand and imposing.

His father -  _their_  father - had only taken a few steps forward before Obā-sama's scary eyes honed in on him. Obā-sama had worn a yellow sweater that reminded him of rubber duckies. Though he found it difficult to think of them fondly when the color made the gold of her eyes pop out. So when she looked at him, stared into the depths of his little three-year-old soul, Ryōhei is not ashamed to admit he was terrified of the woman who wasn't yet his Obā-sama.

(He's still terrified of her to this day.)

That's when he saw her. Ryōhei spotted tufts of gold peaking over the woman's shoulder. His sister, his father had told him.

"So that's him, then? That's her son?"

"He is."

The woman not yet his Obā-sama morphed into something horrifying. It looked uncomfortable. Wasn't she in pain?

"I want you out of this house, out of this family and out of our  _lives_."

His father sighs, tired and weary but there's a resolute look in his eyes.

"That's not your decision to make."

The woman snarls like a feral animal.

Ryōhei tunes out there arguing, for what else could involve words too big for him to understand and loud voices, and examines the tiny person across him. Her golden locks, damp, stick to her flushed sweaty face. She still manages to somehow look fluffy. Or that could just be the blanket she's wrapped up in. When her eyes open, lazy and clumsily, Ryōhei falls in love.

She resembles a wet kitten.

Ryōhei is an impressionable three-year-old who knows very little. There are, however, things he's certain of. He doesn't know the name of the color the sky, but he's familiar with snow. He doesn't know when his mother will return, but at least his father's still here. He doesn't know why the adults are fighting, but Ryōhei doesn't care. Despite not knowing the other girl's name, he's certain of one thing: Ryōhei is her brother now, an  _older_  brother, and it's the job of an older sibling to care for their younger siblings. Ryōhei must look out for her now.

It's his duty.

So he reached out with tiny pudgy hands for his equally tiny pudgy sibling with a call of "Imōto!"

* * *

 

Sasagawa Kyōko was born into the world angry, screaming and scared.

(Whatever darkness they dragged her out of, she would very much like to return to it thank you very much.)

For the longest time she is angry and scared. The first months are spent mourning. A year passes and she learns to settle against her will. Another year and Kyōko learns how to adjust, and the bitterness rescinds. She cries but is relieved to learn of her brother's existence, too sick and delirious to question his late arrival.

She's not alone anymore.

Time continues to fly by.

She can walk, talk and hoards all sorts of literature and art. Books, colors, paints and much more. Kyōko's curious and determined. She wants to test the limits of this new body. Of this new life. She refuses to feel any guilt over the past.

Sometimes her joints will lock up, as if struck by lightning. Sometimes there's a heartbeat between her ears. Sometimes there's not enough oxygen in her lungs. Sometimes she feels gross, cold and sweaty, her nerves shot to hell and back but she perseveres. She has to.

Her regrets won't stop her. They can't stop her.  _Won't_  stop her. She doesn't have time for regrets. Instead, she'll use them as kindle to fuel the fire that burns within her soul. This is her second chance now, she can't afford to mess this up.

With her brother by her side, everything will work out just fine.

(It has to work out fine.)

Everything falls apart so spectacularly. All it takes is a name and everything goes  _poof!_ like smoke to the wind. The day her world comes to an end is the day she cycles back to anger. And just when she was beginning to learn to accept.

What was a girl to do?

She breathed in. The universe within expanded.

She breathed out nebulae. Planets collided against her ribcage.

Within the cesspit Kyōko called a heart, something infinite and unyielding yawned with the fury of a thousand dying suns.

Whatever cosmic deity that pulled her into their orbit would regret this. They will pay for their transgressions.

* * *

  _But if it had to perish twice,_  
_I think I know enough of hate_  
_To say that for destruction ice_  
_Is also great_  
_And would suffice."_  
-Robert Frost

* * *

End of "The End of the Beginning"

* * *

...

 _alternatively titled:_  if kyōko doesn't get to rule the world, then nobody can

...

* * *

**word count:** 1,394  
**start:**  02/12/2018  
**completed & published: **04/12/2018

* * *

_02 preview:_

The first friend Kyōko ever made was the firecracker known as Mochida Kensuke.

(It's funnier in retrospect.)

**Author's Note:**

>  **note:** laugh while you still can because this girl will get the last laugh when they find your corpse in a ditch.
> 
> (also, whoops. did not mean to give her my anxiety. sorry sweetie)
> 
> my favorite self inserts aren't the ones who fix things, they're the ones who are so angry with the world, with the circumstances of their birth, that they unintentionally - or intentionally - rip the universe a new one because they didn't ask for this and takes it all out on the protags and others one way or another.
> 
> to hell with the plot! amirite?


End file.
